


Family Matters

by PhantomFlutist



Series: Error!AU [6]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Error (Music Video), Babies, Cyborgs, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, just FYI, this fic is the real reason that any of the other sequels exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomFlutist/pseuds/PhantomFlutist
Summary: Hongbin never set out to change the world; he just wanted to be happy. And now finally, with his husband at his side, he's getting something that he's wanted for almost thirty years.





	Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah hi, idk what to say here. Shout-out to the person who bought me a coffee last week, and like...I hope y'all like Error!AU because here's another one. This is probably going to be the last fic in this series for a little while because I really need to finish some other projects. I'll probs come back here at some point, just not until I've like...hacked away at my WIP list a little more.

 

“She’ll be here in five,” Wonshik calls on his way past the bedroom door.

Hongbin squawks unattractively and finishes buttoning his shirt with suddenly jittering fingers that for once have nothing to do with the hardware beneath his skin. “What do you mean _she’ll be here in five_? I thought she wasn’t coming until nine!” he yells back, well aware that Wonshik is probably in the kitchen making coffee or some other incredibly responsible adult thing that will reflect well on them when the social worker arrives.

Wonshik’s voice is slightly distant and echoes in a way that confirms Hongbin’s theory. “She called yesterday and changed it to eight thirty. I definitely sent you a message.”

“I was at the lab yesterday,” Hongbin says. Their bed is a mess that he attempts to salvage, plucking the lube from where it had ended up buried in the sheets and tucking it back into the drawer. He’s never been the best at making beds, but at least the pillows are where they belong and the blanket is stretched across the mattress in the correct direction.

When he comes out of the bedroom finally, Wonshik is in the living room picking up abandoned coffee mugs. He gives Hongbin a wry smile and says, “Sorry. Guess I should have said something last night. You wanna put those books back on the actual shelves?” He jerks his chin towards the frankly shameful stack of books on the end table next to the sofa…and in the armchair…and on the TV stand. Basically anywhere a book would fit, there’s one there.

Hongbin feels the sheepish blush creeping up his neck and takes his turn apologizing.

“It’s fine,” Wonshik tells him, stopping to give Hongbin a quick kiss on his way past. “I don’t mind. It’s just that scary Mrs. Park might.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hongbin mumbles, and he’s already gathering an armful of books and shoving them haphazardly into any available shelf space. He can reorganize them later. The important thing is that they not be lying on the floor.

The door chimes just as he’s sliding the last one into place, and Hongbin startles violently and whips around to stare at the entryway like she’s going to come in on her own. Which is silly; she’s not a ghost…or Wonshik.

Wonshik lays a hand on his arm to calm him and murmurs, “I’ll get it.”

Hongbin nods at him and takes the spare moment his husband has given him to take a few deep breaths and try to get his galloping heart to slow down. He tells himself that everything is going to be fine and pastes on a congenial smile just as Wonshik comes back from the entryway with their social worker in tow.

Mrs. Park is a very short woman (she barely comes up to Hongbin’s chest) and slightly rounded. There’s a shock of bright red hair on her head, close-cropped at the sides and spiked up a bit at the front. She’s wearing high-waisted shorts over dark leggings today, and a loose top that’s nearly long enough to be a dress. Her fingernails are the pinkest pink that Hongbin’s ever seen.

She holds out a hand for Hongbin to shake, and he does so without hesitating, his grip firm but not overly strong. It’s important that he make a good impression on her. This final interview is _everything._ “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Lee,” she says, her voice even. It’s hard to determine what she’s thinking at any time, but she seems especially unreadable today.

“And you, Mrs. Park,” he says.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Wonshik offers.

Mrs. Park waves her hand dismissively, several diamond rings sparkling in the light. “That won’t be necessary,” she says. She glances around, takes in their immaculate living room, the wall of shelves filled with old-fashioned books. “Frankly, this visit is only a formality. You have awed everyone at the bureau and passed all of the interviews with flying colors.”

They’re both left gaping. Hongbin can see, when he has the presence of mind to glance at his husband instead of just staring blankly at the woman standing in their apartment, that Wonshik is doing that thing where he swallows repeatedly while blinking so fast that Hongbin used to think he was _batting his eyelashes_ until he realized that Wonshik only does it when he’s so astonished his brain has ceased to function.

The last time he made that face was when they got married, and Wonshik froze right after the ceremony with his hand linked to Hongbin’s, silver rings on both their fingers and their vows still hanging heavy in the air. He’d started crying shortly after, and when Hongbin started to panic, thinking that Wonshik was _already regretting marrying him_ , he’d managed to explain that he just…couldn’t believe that they were actually married. That he’d actually gotten that with a man he loved more than the world. They’d both ended up crying for like an hour.

“I’d like a tour,” she tells them, and Hongbin nods and forces himself into motion, gesturing around the living room, leading her into the kitchen and telling her about the updated appliances they’ve just had installed.

Fortunately for him, Wonshik takes over before he gets very far, because frankly Hongbin knows almost nothing about the appliances except for the fact that they did just install them because Wonshik did all the research and picked them out and dealt with the bots who came to do the work because Hongbin was spending most of his days at Hakyeon’s clinic—letting Sanghyuk poke and prod him—at the time.

They meander through the house, and she asks questions about their lifestyle, their daily routine, the work that they do. They’re mostly all questions that they’ve answered before, and it starts to lull Hongbin into a sense of security.

And then they get to end of the hall, and his heart starts pounding again.

“This is the home office,” he tells her, opening the door to his converted workshop. He hasn’t done much proper work here in months now. Wonshik really spends more time here than he does.

She pokes her head in and gives it a cursory inspection, but there’s no comment on safety or noise or any of the things that he was worried about, except for a vague wave towards the cupboard that stores parts, and a quick, “You keep things organized?”

He doesn’t say ‘obviously’ because he knows she can see that there aren’t any parts or tiny screws or any other hazardous materials lying around. Instead he tells her, “I have a strict system. And the cupboard has a fingerprint lock.”

She nods and turns to her right, where Wonshik is hovering in the doorway of the final room, the one that they all know she really wants to see. “This will be the child’s room?”

Wonshik waves her inside and then he and Hongbin both stand awkwardly in the doorway as she looks around.

She steps into the middle of the room and stops on the plush rug that pads the laminate wood-look flooring, surveying the space around her.

The crib in the corner is already made up, a soft blanket covered in little pink hearts draped over the side. The antique oak dresser next to it, with a changing pad on the top, is filled with tiny clothes. And the old rocking chair, the one that Hongbin dragged out of a storage unit in Itaewon when he and Wonshik moved into this apartment two years ago, is still waiting with its little basket of hats on the seat.

Mrs. Park doesn’t know what any of these things mean to them, and to Hongbin in particular. She doesn’t know how long it took before Hongbin could even look at them without crying. But she looks around and for the first time he’s ever seen, a tiny, genuine smile quirks up her mouth and she says, “It looks like the only thing missing is a child.”

And Hongbin is terribly, terribly afraid that after all this, after he and Wonshik have waited for so long, after they were so careful not to start filling this room until they were sure, until it started to become _real_ , well…he’s scared that she’ll tell them no. That he’ll have to listen to her say that they’ll never get what they want. Because he’s too old or not good enough or just not father material.

“A baby came into our care two days ago,” she says. “She’s only two months old and her mother died of Black Lung, the poor thing. As you know, our system is overfull. None of the care facilities in the city have space for another infant. So our choices are to send her to another city entirely,” and here she pauses, watches their faces with sharp eyes, “or to find her a permanent home immediately.”

Hongbin can’t help the way he slumps against Wonshik’s side. His eyes are filling with tears and even though she’s basically said it he can’t help his disbelief. They’ve been talking about this for _years_. Since before they moved into this apartment, since before they’d even discussed marriage they knew they both wanted kids.

Wonshik squeezes Hongbin’s shoulders tightly and asks, “Are you telling us that we’ve been approved?”

“In rather a rush, yes,” she says. Her words are clipped but that little smile is still teasing at the edges of her mouth. “Her name is Kim Hyejin. Well, I suppose it will be Lee now. Assuming you want her.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hongbin says. He doesn’t mean it to come out so high and desperate and _painful_ , but he wants this so badly. He wants the child he never had with Youngji. He wants all the children he can have with Wonshik. “Yes, of course we want her.”

“Can you come this afternoon to meet her?”

They both nod, so quickly that Hongbin thinks he might have strained his neck. “We’ll be there,” they promise.

It’s good news—the best, in fact. When she’s gone and they’re alone, Wonshik just holds him close and presses kiss after kiss to Hongbin’s hair and face and lips.

“A baby, Wonshik,” Hongbin whispers. “Finally, after all this time, we’re actually—it’s actually.”

“I know,” Wonshik says, and they curl up on the couch together with cups of coffee and just…let it sink in, for a while.

\---

It’s not the first time they’ve walked into the Bureau of Family Services office, but it feels like it to Hongbin, who hasn’t been this close to a panic attack in quite a while.

Wonshik squeezes him around the shoulders and murmurs, “You’re gonna be fine.”

“And we’re going to walk out of here with our baby girl,” Hongbin agrees, forcing a smile onto his face. It’s just nerves, and lingering disbelief. God, he’s been praying for this for so long.

The bot at the front desk greets them with its usual stiff smile and buzzes them into Mrs. Park’s office. She’s already waiting for them, her red hair more mussed than usual, and she’s holding a tiny, tiny bundle in her arms.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she says when she sees them. “She was having a bit of a fit just before you got here, but she seems calmer now. Come and meet her.”

Hongbin approaches with hesitance, clutching tightly at Wonshik’s arm. Hyejin is so small, with a delicate little nose and plush little cheeks and a shock of the softest-looking hair on her little head. He can hear Wonshik making cooing noises next to him, and he asks, “Can I hold her?”

Mrs. Park smiles at his eagerness and transfers the baby into his arms. She’s even softer than she looks. He jiggles her a little, bouncing her gently. She smiles at him and sticks her tiny fists out of the bundle of blankets to wave them around with excitement.

Wonshik props his chin on Hongbin’s shoulder and runs one finger so so carefully over her cheek. “She’s beautiful,” he whispers.

“So beautiful,” Hongbin replies. He has to choke back tears. She’s perfect and they’ve been waiting so long.

“Let’s finish the paperwork so that you can take her home, shall we?” Mrs. Park interrupts.

Hongbin swipes under his eyes with one hand and chuckles weakly at himself. “Yes,” he says, glancing at his husband and seeing the same answer in his eyes. “Let’s do that.”

\---

It’s sort of surreal to walk into their apartment just like always, except for the fact that Wonshik has a baby carrier in one hand that he sets down on the armchair very, very carefully. She fell asleep on the train home and neither of them had been able to help checking on her about every five seconds to make sure she was okay.

Wonshik is fumbling with the protective smog-filtering cover on the carrier, trying to get it off without jostling her too much. It’s cute, the way he hisses every time he slips and bumps her, no matter how gentle.

Chuckling lowly because he’s way too aware of their sleeping daughter—and fuck, _their daughter_ —Hongbin deposits the diaperbag of supplies that Family Services gave them to last the first day or two onto the floor by the entryway and goes to help his husband. “Here,” he whispers, “I think you have to release these snaps first.”

“Thanks,” Wonshik mumbles, finally pulling the cover off and setting it aside.

And then Hyejin is revealed fully and they both just…stop. Her sleeping face is so soft, her tiny eyelids slightly blue with little blood vessels beneath thin skin. She is so delicate, so small. And Hongbin can’t help but think about how _breakable_ she is.

“Oh my god, what was I thinking,” Wonshik whispers, sounding more horrified than Hongbin has heard him in a long time. “I’m scared of hurting _you_ , and you’re partially made of metal.” He turns to Hongbin, his eyes wide and afraid. “Hongbin, I can’t pick her up. _I have super-powered arms_.”

Hongbin takes his hand and laces their fingers together. “So do I,” he reminds Wonshik, because he seems to forget that, “and I held her earlier. She’s fine. You’re not going to hurt her.”

“You don’t know that,” Wonshik says.

Hongbin shakes his head and heaves an exasperated sigh. He gives Wonshik a soft kiss and says, “No, but I know you. God, you’re literally the gentlest man I know. Trust me; it’s going to be fine.”

Wonshik takes a shuddering breath and leans against Hongbin. “I can do this,” he murmurs.

Hyejin shifts and makes an unhappy little noise, struggling against the light blanket tucked around her.

“Yeah you can,” Hongbin says. He extracts his hand from Wonshik’s and cups his neck for a moment. “Now, put our daughter to sleep in her crib.”

Wonshik’s eyes go a little teary and he gazes down at the baby blankly for a moment. And then he looks back up at Hongbin and asks, “Wait, why me?”

Hongbin pats his shoulder and says, “Because it’s my turn to make dinner.”

Wonshik makes a tiny offended noise, but in the next moment he’s leaning down to extract Hyejin from her carrier and cradling her gently against his chest. He starts humming to her, deep soft vibrations low in his throat. What little crying she had started calms at once and she nuzzles her face against his shoulder. Wonshik definitely looks like he’s going to cry. Hongbin kind of feels like he might, too.

“Go before we both fall apart,” Hongbin orders. “We can cry about it later.”

It makes Wonshik chuckle a little, and he pads quietly down the hallway. Which is just as well, because Hongbin feels the waterworks start properly in the next moment and goes into the kitchen where he can press a hand over his mouth to hide his deluded smile.

God, he’s so happy. That little girl is all theirs, for real, and it may be about thirty years later than Hongbin thought it would be but he’s no less grateful because of it. Who knows if he even would have ended up in the same place, if he would ever have met Wonshik if he’d had a child to think about all those years ago?

And he never thought he would be grateful for everything that happened after his wife died, but he’s been proven wrong about a lot of other things lately, so he might as well add one more to the list. He’s so fucking lucky to be where he is.

He makes himself wipe the tears away after a moment and starts in on dinner. He’s got the rice cooker going and is halfway through starting soup when Wonshik comes back in and leans against the counter next to the stove.

“Everything okay?” Hongbin asks him.

Wonshik nods slowly. His eyes are red-rimmed but no longer wet, and Hongbin thinks Wonshik must have gotten his cry in already too. “She’s asleep,” he murmurs. “What’re you making?”

“Kimchi jjigae,” Hongbin replies. Wonshik probably could have figured it out for himself, since Hongbin only knows how to make about three things successfully. He never claimed to be a good cook, but he tries to help out so Wonshik isn’t always doing it.

Wonshik gives him a smile, small but real. “Sounds awesome. Anything I can help with?”

Hongbin shakes his head. “I’ve got it.” He chops up the last of the kimchi and throws it in the pot. He can feel Wonshik’s eyes on him but just waits, keeps doing his thing until his husband decides he’s ready to talk.

“I’m terrified,” Wonshik says at last. He’s smiling sheepishly, like he doesn’t think he’s allowed to be afraid or that Hongbin’s going to be mad at him for it.

“Good, that makes two of us,” Hongbin says. Soup simmering on the stove, he wipes his hands off on a towel and turns to stare his husband in the eye. “This is possibly the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me. And I discovered the company I was working for was turning innocent people into cyborgs and blew up the building with the board of directors in it, so this is…it’s a big deal, Wonshik. But we wanted this. And that little girl,” he nods towards the nursery where Hyejin is sleeping, “she’s perfect. And she needs us.”

“Our daughter,” Wonshik whispers, and then pulls Hongbin into his arms and buries his face in Hongbin’s neck.

“Lee Hyejin.” God, it even sounds perfect. They’re going to be okay.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://phantomflutist.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PhantomFlutist) for writing updates, spoilers, ranting, and more!


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